


Alethia: I make myself known to you

by blacksoulwithredsoles



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: 1x06, Ash Tyler POV, But I ship this so we will have more fic soon, Comfort, F/M, Humanity, Nightmares, PTSD, Spoilers, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksoulwithredsoles/pseuds/blacksoulwithredsoles
Summary: Emotions make us human. Sometimes you need someone to remind you how humanity works, and sometimes you need to remind someone what it means to be human.





	Alethia: I make myself known to you

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Star Trek fic. I very much was anticipating Discovery and I have to admit I love Ash Tyler / Michael Burnham. This isn't a relationship fic but I definitely see them heading that way and I plan on writing something along those lines soon.
> 
> So I have exams coming up and this is unbetaed but I felt like I needed to push this out before the next episode airs and more fan theories come to light, because they can't ruin this relationship for me before it even starts. 
> 
> Another note: People have been shipping M/M and F/F for these two and any hate towards the M/F pairing won't be tolerated. I don't oppose same-sex relationships but it is not going to be cannon and admittedly the only pairing I don't like is Georgiou/ Burnham as they have a self proclaimed mother daughter relationship.
> 
> Enjoy...

He bolted upright.

Gasping, air lodged deep in his throat struggling to get out and simultaneously choking him on the way in. He felt the beads of sweat drip like a leaking faucet from his brow down along his face. Taking a steadying breath he attempted to regulate his breathing, forcing his body to relax after reliving the horrors of his last few months.

“Computer. Lights.”

Moving out of the Starfleet issued sheets he made his way to the bathroom, as the room artificially brightened with the standard fluorescent glow of the USS Discovery. Splashing the cool liquid over his flushed face as if that would soothe the uneasiness that clings to him like a long lost friend.

Fists curled and rest on either side of the basin as the tortured Lieutenant regulated his breathing.

His eyes locked onto his reflection in the mirror, tunnel vision kicking in and all he could see was sunken eyes, shaky breath and a depleted soul staring back at him. 

That’s all he does now.

Stares. Body taut. Tightly coiled like a cheetah ready to leap towards its prey.

They say time heals all wounds, but time hasn’t done anything for him.

Time. All he has is time. 

He hasn’t been given a new assignment, so he has all the time in the galaxy to reflect and think. His mind won’t stop whirring, images of his time with the Klingons contrasting with his happier memories with his crewmates. How does he spend his time aboard the Discovery? Dividing his time between the gym and the mess – craving human interaction after his months of captivity.

 The digital display in his quarters read 04:00, to early to be doing either of those distractions he indulges in to break up the monotony of his days.

 “Lorca to Tyler,” the comm beeped to life.

 “Tyler here Captain.”

 “Feel like joining me on the simulation deck?”

 “On my way sir.”

 The comm beeped shut.

 How did the Captain know that sleeplessness and restlessness plagued him?

 Asking the computer for the location of the simulation room, Lieutenant Ash Tyler donned a fresh uniform and his tactical vest before exiting his quarters into the empty corridors of the Discovery.

* * *

 

“Ready Lieutenant?” The baritone voice of Captain Gabriel Lorca called out as they finished gearing up.

He spared a glance at the Captain with lips curling upwards, “Born ready sir.”

 “Computer, initiate.”

 Refocusing in front of him Ash Tyler felt at ease for the first time in seven months.

 The weight of the rifle was a welcome feeling, the weapon becoming an extension of his body. He spent months feeling powerless and the minute the rifle was in his familiar grasp he felt his power return. The weapon imbuing in him an aura that he never thought would be his ever again.

 Finger on the trigger he pulled.

 And pulled. 

And pulled.

 He and Lorca entered into a familiar dance. One only known to skilled fighters, to those who understood war, who welcomed the decisions wartime forces upon them.

 He felt the amount of times he pulled the trigger like an instinctual reaction to the hum of combat, his body familiar with it. Twelve times.

 The simulated Klingons kept pushing forward in their approach, twenty dead Klingons.

 It wasn’t as good as the real thing but fighting the image of his captors was cathartic.

 After a while the Captain spoke up, “How are you holding up?”

 Holding a steady grip on his weapon Tyler responded, “I waited seven months to do this. Don’t worry about me Captain.” Moving around to the situation of the simulation, “Clear.”

 “Door right, stack right. Go.” Captain Lorca instructs, further proving that this man isn’t a bright-eyed Starfleet Officer, no this man has seen the horrors of war.

 “Where do you hail from soldier?” Lorca used this brief reprieve to question him.

 “Seattle,” he pressed the door lock for another chamber, “Clear.”

 “Clear. What about your family?”

 Tyler paused briefly while checking his ammunition, “I never knew my father. Mom said I didn’t miss much there. She died while I was at the Academy on her way to the moons of Grorzar. A rogue comet. Her first vacation in twelve years.”

 They had both reloaded and Captain Lorca nodded at him, “High, low.”

 They slide out of the room, Klingons disappearing with every pull of the trigger. He notices his Captain gets hit but he keeps firing on.

 The automated voice stopped the simulation, “Two survivors, one injury. Mission success. Hologram battle simulation complete.”

 The pair leave the simulation floor and move to the virtual armory.

 “Your mother was a teacher right?”

 Apparently Lorca’s interrogation wasn’t quite complete, “yeah third grade.”

 “Issaqah Elementary,” the Captain packs his rifle, “24 kilometers outside Seattle which makes you not exactly from Seattle,” seeing his companions facial expression Lorca continued, “I like to split hairs. I do my homework. Think I let just anyone walk on my ship?”

 Packing his own rifle Tyler shook his head, “No sir. I assume I checked out.”

 "We wouldn’t be playing with these toys if you didn’t,” the Captain half smiled.

 “24 kills, you?”

 Looking down at his rifle Lieutenant Tyler lied, “22 sir. Looks like I may be the one who needs to get his eyes fixed.”

 In his experience no Commanding Officer wants to be beaten by a subordinate especially one as tactically sound as Lorca.

 Seeing the Captain glance at the rifle Ash started, “Captain, out of respect-“

 The Captain passionately cut him off, “Don’t apologise for excellence. I want my chief of security to shoot better than I do.”

 It took Lieutenant Tyler a minute to process what his Captain said and catch up with him in the corridor, “You offering me a slot Captain?”

 Lorca kept walking, “Well I figure I’ve seen you fly, shoot…fight like a Klingon.”

 Biting back a smile Tyler responded, “Klingon guards beat on me for seven months. I was bound to pick something up.”

 The Captain only shook his head, “No. Most people would have given up. You learned. My last chief of security and I went through a lot together. I need someone I can trust, someone who understands war. What it takes to survive, what it takes to win. I think that’s you. Is it?”

  _Yes._

 It was as if his every thought, emotion and feeling was mirrored in the superior officer in front of him. Ash wasn’t stupid, he knew he wasn’t okay but somehow…being here, on this ship with this crew – he had a feeling that if he were on any other vessel in the fleet he wouldn’t be feeling as relieved and appreciative as he is now.

 “I’d be honoured to serve on the Discovery. I won’t let you down.”

 Captain Lorca smiled, “Good.”

 Clapping his forearm the Captain went on his way.

 He had a purpose. A purpose that mattered. It was no longer to stay alive but to now protect a crew- keep his team alive – to serve a Captain and a ship, and be the best damned soldier he could be.

 That thought stayed with him as he left the shower and dressed in a fresh uniform for the second time that day. The purpose flooded him with euphoria that surpassed that of being rescued tenfold.

 Replicating himself breakfast he found a seat on an empty table. He was ready to begin a second part of his catharsis, interacting with others – interacting with his crewmates.

 He noticed an overzealous redhead Cadet and a lithe woman who bore no rank who appeared to be making their way over to him.

 “Scuttlebutt is you took out six Klingon warriors in hand to hand combat.”

 Someone clearly isn’t shy.

 Shaking his head Ash responded, “Can’t believe everything you hear.”

 He noticed the other woman still standing, unsure if she would be welcome or not, “please sit down,” he gestured.

 “I am Cadet Sylvia Tilly. This is my mentor Michael.”

 His eyes widen in recognition, this must be the Michael Burnham he heard murmurings about on the ship.

 “You’re Michael Burnham.”

 That explains her awkwardness. He was a prisoner of war mostly due to her actions, not that he blamed her 

“The same. You probably can believe everything you hear.”

Self-deprecating, she probably had to be after what he is sure some of the horrible things people have said to her after the Battle of the Binary Stars.

“I tend to assess people in the here and now. You are a functioning crewmember of a Federation starship. Right here. Right now.”

He didn’t care, truthfully. A person isn’t defined by one action but rather the sum of their actions and how that influences their present.

He slammed his fist on the table, which ought to shock her.

Clearly she was surprised by his reaction to her as it took a kick from the Cadet to spur her into action.

 He extended a hand and watched as she stared at it and hesitantly shook it. 

He barely heard Tilly speak. 

And then she paused. 

“Michael?”

As if she wasn’t seeing him but rather seeing through him.

“Michael, what’s wrong?”

She rose, slowly as if time stood still.

She grasped at her side, “I should go.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes…..no.”

 She hit the ground.

 _“Sarek.”_  

He looked to the cadet beside him and rose to the unconscious woman on the other side of the table.

“Emergency transport, two to beam to sickbay.”

He gripped her hand as he felt the familiar energy of the transporter beam. 

Burnham materialized on the bed and medical personnel made quick work of tending to her.

“Dr. Culber to Captain Lorca, Michael Burnham was just beamed to sickbay unconscious.”

 Michael was still unconscious when Cadet Tilly and Captain Lorca simultaneously entered the medical bay.

 “Report.”

 Lorca stated but his eyes were only for the unconscious member of the crew.

 “She gripped her side as if she was injured and called out a name. Sarek I think it was.”

 Lieutenant Tyler watched as confusion washed onto the Captain’s face before he nodded in his direction, effectively dismissing him.

 Exiting sickbay he couldn’t understand the Captain’s interest in Michael Burnham, why would Doctor Culber call the Captain? Who was Michael Burnham to him?

 Tyler spent the next few hours roaming the ship. If he was going to be Chief of Security he better know every nook and cranny of the Discovery.

 “Lorca to Tyler.”

 “Yes Captain.”

 Ash paused midstride, “report to my ready room.”

 Making his way to the turbolift he exited on the bridge. While familiar with Starfleet bridges it was his first time in the command centre of the Discovery. No matter how many Starfleet bridges he had been on, the magnitude of the site always resonates with him. It’s like a kid on Christmas every single time. The flashing lights, the rush of personnel, the Captains chair and the Security station.

 “The Captain will see you now,” the man he came to recognize as First Officer Saru informed him.

 Nodding he went to the ready room.

 “Lieutenant,” Captain Lorca rounded his desk to stand in front of him.

 “Up for a mission?” He asked, eyebrows quirked upwards as if he already knew the answer.

 His hands relaxed marginally in their position behind his back, “Yes sir.”

 “Good,” Lorca straightened, “You will be flying a shuttle into the nebula for the retrieval of Ambassador Spock. Michael Burnham and Cadet Tilly will be accompanying you.” The Captain reached on his desk and brought a bowl closer to Ash.

 “It’s imperative this goes off without a hitch.”

 Lorca pushed the bowl forward and shook it, encouraging Ash to take a fortune cookie.

 “Open it.”

 Under the Captain’s watchful gaze he cracked open the cookie.

  _You’ll find light in the darkest shadows._

 Fitting.

 Seeing the smile creep onto Tyler’s face Lorca didn’t pry but rather took his seat once again, “Report to the shuttle bay.”

 Palming the note he returned his gaze to his captain, “Yes sir.”

 Tyler wasn’t surprised to see Michael Burnham already inside of their assigned shuttle, looking pained and weak she sat on the floor working on a piece of equipment.

 “How are you feeling?” Ash came up behind her.

 Pivoting, she stood up, “Well thank you for asking Lieutenant.”

 A lie. But a polite one.

 “It’s Ash, Commander.”

 He watched as a void look bathed her face, “I’m no longer commissioned. Just Michael.”

 His lips twitched, words playing on his lips but he bit them down. Nodding he moved to leave the shuttlecraft, preparing to do an external check of the craft before their departure.

 By the time he took the helm Cadet Tilly was aboard the craft and they were doing a final check on the equipment that she and Michael brought aboard.

 Checking his console he was surprised to hear the Captain come up behind him having left his ready room less than an hour ago.

 “Bring her back in one piece,” the Captain said in lieu of greeting.

 He half turned to the console in front of him, “Not a scratch.”

 The Captain’s lips quirked upward and his tone dropped, “I’m talking about her.”

 As Lorca’s gaze shifted the Burnham, Tyler couldn’t help but do the same. He nodded to his superior. Something about this woman has Lorca going to bat for her, why is she so special?

 “Or don’t come back at all.”

 It could have been left unsaid, but it wasn’t.

 Trying to lighten the mood the Captain tapped him, but that did nothing to ease the seriousness of the conversation, clearly Michael was important to the Captain of the Discovery.

 This would be when he would have used to run his hands through his hair in exasperation, but it’s a nervous habit that Starfleet training booted out of him.

 Something tells him that Michael isn’t the kind of woman that takes submission well, and clearly she won’t stop at anything to rescue this Sarek.

 She could obviously feel his gaze on her, and their eyes met briefly before he resumed his tasks at the console.

 They entered the colourful expanse without to great an issue, a course plotted to Sarek’s last known coordinates.

He could hear the two women behind him speaking. Cadet Tilly was trying to boost Michael’s spirits, and by the sounds of it the roles are usually reversed. Somehow it put a smile on his face knowing that Michael for all her Vulcan upbringing is being a good friend to the embodiment of humanity itself. Hearing her despair over the experience of her past, and the feelings that it is stirring within her he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. He has had some recent experience with conflicting emotions.

Reaching their destination he turned back to them, “Can we do this before we get torn to pieces? Or you can keep chatting. It’s up to you.” 

He is an exceptional pilot but the surrounding space, as beautiful as it is – is less than hospitable. 

Hearing her pre-procedure confession to Tilly he turned to face her. She isn’t going to make this easy for him if it comes down to choosing her over the Vulcan ambassador.

He watched as delirium took its physical toll on her body, speaking with them in a room but not directly to them. 

The monitors sparked to life, beeping erratically. He turned back, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then wake her up,” he ordered. 

“She said not to. It will sever the link,” Tilly attempted to make her mentors wishes known. 

Unfortunately, he knew that this would be difficult going in, so he played his trump card.

“I outrank you.”

Burnham was pulled out of her mind meld but before he could enquire further alarms began blaring at the conn.

“Plotting a course back to the Discovery.”

 He was getting her home in one piece. The Captain made his wishes perfectly clear, Michael Burnham was to be back aboard the Discovery in peak condition.

 Of course Michael Burnham would have an issue with it, “No you’re not.”

 Of course she wanted to bring Sarek back.

 “Those were not my orders,” he reiterated.

 He was surprised Burnham didn’t have a quip to his own comment but instead he heard her gasp in pain. Unclipping himself he turned his seat and moved to her side. She plead to him as he helped her move back onto the seat.

 How could he say no? She was desperate to have her family back, how could he deny her that. He conceded, “All right. What can we do?”

 “I don’t know,” she gasps out, “His thoughts are fixed on my graduation day, but the emotions from that memory are to difficult for me to handle.”

 “Maybe it’s hard for him too,” he suggested.

 “Or maybe not. He is Vulcan,” Tilly reminded.

 This is true.

 “Why is he thinking of your failure? Where is the logic in that? I’ve been close to death,” a few times too many, “Right up next to it. You don’t think of who’s failed you. None of that matters. You think about who you love. What you wish you’d done differently.”

 He saw his words registering on Michael’s face, “What does he wish he had done differently?”

 Tunnel vision.

 That’s what Michael had after he spoke, her mind and body focusing on the mechanism that would connect her to Sarek’s mind.

 She nodded her thanks to him, “I’m going back in.”

 He couldn’t help himself as he patted her shoulder and returned back to his station to navigate through the nebula.

 He could tell when she was back in Sarek’s mind, the woman who has said all but a dozen words to him was verbose, speaking with a passion that can only be reserved for those you love.

 Her ramblings stopped with a gasp, her body voluntarily leaving the meld.

 The transponder pinged on his console, “I’ve got his transponder. You did it,” he informed the others.

 He plotted a course to the signal and prepared to beam the Vulcan life sign aboard.

 Looking back to confirm that the Vulcan materialized on the ship he was welcomed to the site of green blood and a staggering Burnham moving towards her Vulcan father.

 “Plotting a course back to Discovery.”

 He keyed in the details in the conn as Burnham instructed Tilly on how to best patch up Sarek until they make it back to the Discovery.

 Once they cleared the nebula and were within communication range he hailed the ship and commenced docking procedures.

 Medical personnel were waiting for them when the shuttle doors opened. While most headed towards the Ambassador a nurse scanned Burnham. She waved them off and at the look on her face the nurse moved to assist the team tending to the severely wounded Vulcan.

 Tyler watched as Burnham’s eyes closed, the emotions of the moment running across her face.

 She tried to stand from her crouched position but her sense of equilibrium was lost, rushing forward he gripped her shoulder.

 She registered the touch, “Thank you,” her eyelids opened to reveal her dark orbs.

 He squeezed the shoulder he still held onto, “Anytime Michael.”

 She pushed up and he helped her to her feet, “Let’s get you to sickbay.”

 No surprise she waved him off as well, “I’m fine.”

 He rolled his eyes. Perhaps he found someone more stubborn than himself.

 “Finish up here, I’m fine. Just disorientated.”

 He pursed his lips but she had already shaken his hand off and walked away.

 “Tyler to Captain Lorca,” he activated his comm.

 “Yes Lieutenant.” The Captain rang through the otherwise silent craft.

 “Reporting in sir. We all made it back in one piece.”

 “Good to hear Lieutenant. Lorca out.”

 He is glad that is true, he couldn’t fathom disappointing the Captain on his first day on the job.

 His sonic shower was a welcoming comfort after his day. The water dripping down his marred skin – parting gifts from the Klingons – never failed to relax him. Emotions ran high today. Not only for him but for others of the crew, and admittedly today has been one of the most informative days he had spent on the Discovery. Her captain, Gabriel Lorca was a man of great bolster, but a tactician at heart and most certainly at odds within himself. The man had great amounts of emotional conflict, just like himself.

 Then there was Michael Burnham. An enigma if he has ever met one. A mutineer by name, but the most loyal Starfleet officer he has met in just his few brief interactions with her and what he read from her jacket. Human born but raised by Vulcan’s. Years spent suppressing her emotions, which seem to be coming to a head in the present. Pick a trigger. Her actions at the Binary Stars; the death of her Captain; the loss of her ship; her rank and her commission.

 He was curious, not in a way that killed the cat. But in the way one ponders the stars and the story behind them.

 Shutting the water off he readied himself to head to the mess. He was too energized to head to bed for another sleepless night and instead took a data pad with the ships personnel, to familiarize himself with the three hundred crew members he has been tasked to protect.

 Seeing Michael Burnham enter the mess was kismet at its best. Clearly they are fated to be in one another’s path and he has to believe that there is a purpose for it. Both having conflicting emotions, both searching for their humanity.

 As she walked closer to his table he kicked a seat out to her.

 Placing his data pad next to his coffee he leaned forward, “How’s your Vulcan dad?”

 He could see her sigh on her face before she exuded it, “Stubborn and impenetrable,” she adjusted herself in her seat, “…as always.”

 “He claims he doesn’t remember any of the mind-meld.”

 If possible he leaned forward even further, “Well, good thing I was there, then. Mind witness,” he grinned.

 He felt a touch of light hit heart at the sight of her doing the same.

 Until she stopped.

 “I always knew I could never be who he wanted me to be,” she paused glancing to his left, “But I realized today… that it goes both ways.”

 She redirected her gaze back to him, “I’ll never get from him what I want either.”

 His lips twitched, “That’s tough.”

 An indiscernible look crossed her face, “It’s okay,” she nodded, “Part of me feels unburdened.”

 “Still I am sorry,” he reiterates. He lost his mother, and his father was never around. But somehow he thinks that Michael understands that pain even better than he, “for that other part of you.”

 She read his face, maybe looking for pity that wasn’t there, but finding empathy in its place, “Thank you.”

 They were two words but her tone. It was her tone that moved him. The balance of grief, pain, anger and gratitude was in those two words.

 She sighed before smiling up at the stars, “It’s funny. The conflict inside of me has been between logic and emotion.”

 He nodded in understanding given what he knew about her thus far. Having been raised in a culture of repressed emotions the depth of them can now be confounding.

 “But now it’s my emotions that are fighting,” she continued, “I think about him and I want to cry. But… I have to smile…And I feel angry…but I want to love. And I’m hurt, but there’s hope. What’s this?”

 She reminds him of a curious child in that moment, finding an unknown object and wanting clarification about its purpose.

 He couldn’t help the smile cross his lips as she looked up at him in wonder, “Ah… It’s just… being human.”

 He saw when those words resonated within her, but he felt them resonate with him too. They were alike he and her, and maybe they could help each other find the best parts of humanity again.

 Her lips pursed with a grin, “Michael Burnham,” she extended a hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

 “Ash Tyler. We’ve met.”

 “Have we?” she quirked an eyebrow at him, “Let’s try it again?”

 His head lulled to the side, but he conceded and shook her outstretched hand.

 The pair continued to sit together for the next hour, sipping their beverages and basking in silence. Content to not be alone, but happy to reflect on their own thoughts – together.

 That would be enough for now.

 When he woke the next morning it was 06:00 and he didn’t startle himself awake from a night terror.

 Progress.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> I honestly have never known anyone who has served so I don't know how to write PTSD and my mind was a little all over the place but I kind of felt that is what both Tyler and Burnham would be feeling as well. Jumbled and disorientated.
> 
> Send through fic requests if you like.
> 
> As always, kudos is medicine for the soul.


End file.
